


I'll be home for Christmas

by 200and21bees



Series: The Spirit of the Season [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, mild though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200and21bees/pseuds/200and21bees
Summary: Sherlock and John are looking forwards to a quiet Christmas this year, but John seems to be hiding something.





	I'll be home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This one is quite a lot shorter than the previous ones, but hopefully not less fluffy!

 

 

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, sipping on the glass of mulled wine Mrs Hudson had stuck on his hand. John was in the kitchen, humming along to some annoyingly over-played Christmas song on the radio while he rolled out the gingerbread dough. The gifts they had gotten from Greg, Molly, Mrs Hudson and even Mycroft were placed under the tree, the guests had left an hour ago.

 

John had talked Sherlock into helping him make a gingerbread house, Sherlock had made the plan and now John was cutting the proper-sized pieces from the dough.

 

Sherlock watched him, smiling fondly to himself. Everything was perfect, the tree, the wine, the atmosphere...

 

Except that there was something that seemed off to Sherlock. John had been more distracted and absent-minded lately, to the point that a single message had caused John to abandon the stew he'd been making and disappear from the flat for hours. When he'd come back, he'd made some floppy excuse about important papers at the clinic and Sherlock had let it slide, even if it still bothered him. He trusted John, after all.

 

John seemed fine now, so Sherlock didn't want to break the comfortable silence to ask about it. He had started to whistle, and Sherlock decided that whatever it had been, it could wait until after the holidays.

 

They assembled the gingerbread house and decorated it with colourful chocolate drops and tiny marshmallows, sipping the wine and giggling. John ended up licking Sherlock's fingers clean from the icing while Sherlock's ears blushed from the tips from the wine.

 

But when they were headed to bed, Sherlock noticed that John took a few more minutes in the loo than usual. John had brushed his teeth already and Sherlock couldn't hear the water running anymore, and when John finally emerged Sherlock could see how he slid his phone in his robe pocket before draping the robe over a chair. He pulled the edge of the duvet in a silent invitation and John slipped under the covers next to him, pulling him closer and nuzzling his neck before falling sleep.

 

Sherlock stayed awake, wondering and worrying and then scorning himself for worrying. It was probably – no, definitely – nothing, he had no reason to doubt John. “He’s just spending more time on his phone than usual, that was it,” he thought to himself before nodding off on the small hours of the night.

 

Christmas day dawned, the air was brisk and there was a thin layer of snow covering the ground. Sherlock woke up before John and slid out of bed, brushing his teeth and heading to the kitchen to make tea. As he arranged the gingerbreads on a plate, he heard muffled footsteps and then strong arms hugged him from the behind.

 

“Mmm, merry Christmas,” John mumbled, kissing his neck.

 

“Merry Christmas, John,” Sherlock replied, leaning back a little. He could feel John smile as he kissed his neck again, before pulling back and retreating to the bathroom to wash up. Sherlock made him a cup of tea and toast meanwhile, and he was rewarded with another smile when John came back, now smelling of spearmint toothpaste and wearing his robe.

 

“Thank you,” he smiled, sipping the tea. “Why all this?”

 

Sherlock shrugged, sipping his own tea. “Christmas spirit, maybe,” he said, giving John a lopsided grin. They finished breakfast in a comfortable silence, and then John announced it was time to open the presents. Sherlock noticed right away that John was getting distracted, and soon he pulled out his phone again, seemingly sending a text before putting it away again.

 

Sherlock got a book in beekeeping from Mrs Hudson, a tea assortment from Molly, a few old unsolved cases from Greg and a big box of premium chocolates – to share with John – from Mycroft. John in turn got a fluffy, warm-looking jumper from Mrs Hudson, another jumper from Molly and a small basket with a selection of crafted beers in small bottles from Greg. Sherlock had given his gifts, a brand new laptop and a night in a spa hotel, earlier. But John had yet to give him a gift, and he couldn’t find any extra parcels from under the tree.

 

When there were no gifts left, John licked his lips and got up. “I’ve got a gift for you too,” he started, looking at Sherlock.  “It’ll be here any second.”

 

Sherlock raised his eyebrow, trying to figure out what sort of a present would need to be delivered so late. Had John forgotten to get him a gift? No, they’d been preparing for Christmas for weeks, he’s had plenty of time to remember it, hasn’t he? John was pulling out his phone again, looking at it. And then Sherlock opened his mouth, ready about to voice the concern from last few weeks, when the doorbell rang.

 

“John, there’s-“

 

“Finally, that must be it,” John spoke at the same time, lifting his eyes to Sherlock. “Oh, sorry. What is it?”

 

Sherlock snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. “Nothing, it can wait. You can go get the door.”

 

John paused, clearly getting a little nervous. “It… It might be better if you came too,” he said, offering to take Sherlock’s hand. “It’s… Something a little risky. The gift I mean. Well, not risky, just… It’ll be a commitment, I don’t know if-“

 

“Let’s just go see it, then?” Sherlock cut off John’s ramble, half-amused and half-baffled.

 

They walked down the stairs and then John opened the door, revealing a young-ish blonde woman behind it. Sherlock went from confusion to jealousy to anger to curiosity in less than a second until a bright, loud bark pulled his eyes from the woman to her feet, where an Irish Redsetter puppy was trying its hardest to break free from the leash and get to them, seemingly bursting with excitement.

 

Sherlock’s eyes widened as his brow frowned, and he turned to John. “I said it’ll be a commitment,” he said, looking still rather nervous. “I thought best not to let her in before you’ve seen her, in case you think it’s really not… Well, I couldn’t be sure if you would actually want a dog, it’s a rather big thing to give as a gift. I’ve got some food and bowls and toys already, but it can all be returned, or donated, or…”

 

Sherlock watched him, his expression probably just as stunned as he felt it was. Then, as he started to understand what was happening, he made the decision. Turning to the dog again, he crouched and opened his arms a little. The woman who’d been escorting the dog loosened the leash enough for the puppy to practically jump into Sherlock’s arms, licking his face enthusiastically.

 

Sherlock laughed and scratched the behind of the puppy’s ear and he could hear John’s chuckle, sounding relieved. Sherlock looked up at him, giving him a genuinely brilliant smile. “John, I…”

 

John shook his head, quickly thanking the woman before she left and then looking back at Sherlock.

 

“That’s a yes then?” he asked, crouching down too to pet the puppy, who greeted him with wet kisses too.

  
“Yes,” Sherlock said, spotting the tag hanging from the puppy’s collar. ‘Iris’, it said. “It’s a yes.”

 

 


End file.
